Date: Wed, 31 Jul 2002 11:27:36 -0400
From: Tom Cup
Subject: In My Father's Arms By Tom Cup - A/Y Incest
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This is a fictional story involving alternative sexual relationships. If
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In My Father's Arms
By Tom Cup
All Rights Reserved.
At 16 I am what I like to think of as an unisex male. I know that some of my
mannerisms can be mistaken as feminine but I am proud of being a boy. Part
of my problem is that I spent my first ten years of life under the care of
my mother; part of the problem is that I have her body frame, and part of
the problem is that I'm gay. Put all that together and you have a boy that
loves being a boy, loves being with boys, and a boy that is often mistaken
for a girl. That fact was cute when I was little, toddling along side of my
mother, but when Mom died shortly after my eleventh birthday and I was
living full time with my Dad the cuteness became embarrassing.
I admired my Dad. Not just because he's my Dad but because he's good
looking, physically fit and pleasant to be around. I missed my Mom but Dad
did everything he could to make sure we adjusted to your new lives together
with as little strain as possible. Being eleven at the time and starting to
guess at my sexual orientation was a terrifying experience. I didn't want to
lose my Dad because I was gay but I still couldn't resist stealing glimpses
of him as he came out of the bath from a shower or got undressed before a
swim in our backyard pool. I loved looking at him, the massive, sculpted,
chest; his bulging arms and thighs, and the swinging meat between his legs.
Dad never seemed to be ashamed or hesitant about allowing me to view his
body. Even when he would catch me peeking he would just smile and wink and
go about what he was doing. He never made me feel embarrassed about seeing
him nude though I always was -- I knew that my desires to touch him and be
touched by him were socially unacceptable.
Many of my nights of self-experimentation involved fantasies of my father.
Dad never re-married but he did date off and on after Mom died. Those times
were times of deep frustration and insecurity for me. As I experimented with
my own sexuality, sometimes listening to the sounds of my father and a date
as they satisfied each other in Dad's bedroom, I longed all the more to be
touched, loved, by my father.
Sometime after my thirteenth birthday I started experimenting with Harold, a
kid that moved in down the street for the odd span of eight months. Harold
and I had nothing in common except we were both wildly curious about sex.
Harold's was the first penis I sucked and the first person that I allowed to
finger me, all the while pretending that it was Dad's cock in my mouth and
his finger in my ass. After Harold moved away, I continued to experiment
with both my cock and my ass. Some of the best orgasms that I obtained were
while Dad was busy doing some chick and I lay in my bed with a carrot up my
butt pretending that he was doing me.
My crisis came when I was 15, on Father's Day weekend of 2001. Dad had been
seeing Tiffany for about three months. It was a record. I could tell things
were getting serious. Dad would usually go out with someone once, maybe
twice and it was over. If the chick got to a third date it was because Dad
wanted to let her down easy -- to explain that it wasn't her and that he just
wasn't the long term relationship type. So when Tiffany kept showing up
after the third date, I started to get nervous. When she started to stay
over weekends I was panicked -- I couldn't even bring myself off on those
weekends. But when Dad announced that Tiffany would be coming over Father's
Day weekend and staying to spend Father's Day with us, I went ballistic!
"No Dad! Father's Day is supposed to be our special day! I don't want her
here this weekend. I don't like her!"
"Michael, come on, give a guy a break. I'm tired of being alone."
"You're not alone!" I screamed, "You have me!" I ran to my room, slamming
the door behind me, and crashed upon my bed. I was weeping bitterly with my
back to the door when I heard Dad knocking and asking to come in. I could
barely talk; I was in such distress. Dad sat on my bed and began rubbing my
back.
"Come on my Mike. You know I love you but I need a warm body in bed at
night. Maybe you're too young to know how good it feels just to have someone
in bed with you."
"I know what you want," I said sniffling and turning to face him, "I can
give you all those things. I want to."
Dad's face registered shock. I hadn't meant to say what I said to him but it
was out, I was lusting after my own Dad. The day that I feared had arrived.
I would surely be sent away. I cried even more bitterly.
I waited for the door to slam, for some indication of how disgusting Dad
viewed my admittion. I felt him gently stroking my shoulder. I dared to look
back at him. His eyes met mine. He brushed a lock of my hair from my face
and shook his head. I could see his mind wrestling with what I had said. I
knew he couldn't believe the words and yet part of him, I knew, wanted me.
"I really mean it Daddy," I whispered turning into his lap and holding onto
him for dear life as I confessed my love and lust for him, "I want to be
with you. I always have. I'll do anything just let it be you and me. Please.
Just you and me."
Dad didn't answer. He took hold of my arms and released them from his body.
I began to cry again. He shushed me and told me that it was all right. He
kissed me gently on the lips and told me to wait for him; he would be right
back. He left the room. A short time later I heard him on the phone. He told
Tiffany that something had come up; she wouldn't be able to spend the
weekend with us. There was some back and forth conversation that I couldn't
make out but then I heard Dad say, "Look, it's not you. I'm just not ready
for a long-term relationship with anyone right now. I think we need to stop
seeing each other."
When Dad reappeared at my door, I was sitting up waiting for him. He smiled.
His head motioned me to his room. I jumped up and followed him, reaching him
just before we crossed the threshold; I slipped my hand into his. He stopped
and turned to face me. I could feel my already heated body sending heat
rising to my cheeks. Dad's hand brushed my cheeks and hair.
"You are so much like your mother," he sighed, "She would get embarrassed
about her sexual desires too. You sure this is what you want?"
"Yes," I said looking bashfully into his eyes, "For so long."
He smiled. "This is going to be quite a Father's Day weekend."
What I remember most about Dad and my first night and weekend together was
how gentle he was and how ready I was. Dad kept asking if he was hurting me
as he slipped deeper into me. I breathlessly begged him not to stop. We
rocked in unison with one another. His hardness stretched and filled me,
teasing me from within and increasing my pleasure without. Slowly and
steadily his pace increased. I opened myself wide and rocked back on the
instrument of my creation. I was burning with love, lust and passion. Dad
grabbed my ass cheeks, spreading them wider as he sunk deeper into me. My
cock jumped wildly at each stroke of my prostate. Pre-cum leaked from me
freely. My head thrashed wildly on the bed. I squeezed my rectum around his
incoming shaft, determined to feel every sensation that he could give. His
mouth engulfed mine and he forced himself as deeply as he could into me. I
held him there as his seed jetted into me, causing me to shake and tremble
as my cum became a pool on my belly.
Since then I have been Dad's constant companion. When I retire at night, it
is to Dad's bed. If he retires before I do, he knows it won't be long before
I slip nude by his side. I am completely open to my Dad whenever and
wherever he desires. If I am washing the dishes and he wishes to take me
from behind, it pleases me to satisfy him. In this way, he says that I am an
even better wife to him than Mom was, and, on top of that, he says that I am
better at satisfying him than any woman he has ever been with. I'm happy
about that because I want this to last. I want to always be in my father's
arms.
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